Saturday, 31 August 2019

This is a wonderful, wonderfully generic psyche-rock album
with fulsome female vocals from Joana Brito who sings elegantly on spacy songs
like Starlight and vibrantly on the
spaced-out heavy rock of opener Imposing
Sun.

A Portuguese fuzzadelic / psychedelic rock band with other wizard-honed
members Paulo Ferreira, João Lugatte, João Mendes, this fine foursome
demonstrates there are no geographical boundaries to the acquisition of the ‘generic’
as I have outlined it so positively in my previous posting on Dead
Feathers, though these two bands are quite distinctive and thus prove, as well,
how the generic is not narrowly defining.

The wah-wah propelled psychedelia of appropriately
psyche-titled Symphony of the Ironic
Sympathy is a perfect example of this band’s distinctive trajectory along
the precursor line of such far-out music and musicianship. This is a great
track, and Brito excels in a musical diatribe of exalted passion on the song’s
close. That this is followed by a gorgeous blues-riffed [a la Free's Moonshine] wah-wah in Soul Keeper is bliss to these generic-adoring
ears.

Friday, 30 August 2019

When I say ‘generic’ I do not do so disparagingly: I
recently wrote about the ‘pleasingly generic’ songwriting of Baby Rose because
her music is R&B and thus its generic R&B sound is tin-written;
therefore, in stressing how the psychedelic rock of Dead Feathers is heavily
generic I am endorsing it, the adjectival qualifier, as with my other example, the
obvious signpost, albeit here also a pun.

So the wah-wah and pounding bass and thundering drums and
riffs from this fine band on this fine album come as expected and wholly welcome: there are many
such bands these days presenting this generic retro-rock, psychedelic-wise in
this case, and that too is all good to these ears. And before writing this
review I have read a few others – essentially looking for images to
appropriate, as they have – and these too cite the generic qualities, though
tending to do so with precise references to precursor sounds, as I often do,
and a regular I have noted is Black Sabbath – a consistent forerunner to
mention when writing about any of this kind of music – and also, in at least one, Fairport
Convention, which is odd to me on the one hand, but not on the other because when
first listening to opening track At the
Edge [and I don’t think it is the word ‘Edge’ that has prompted this
touchstone citation] I immediately thought of the vocal of Sandy Denny. In the band’s
centrepiece of Marissa Allen, Dead Feathers have a singer of beautiful clarity as
well as the rock-power to compare with any of the best you can think of and
might want to mention, another review actually naming Grace Slick which I
wouldn’t argue against.

I know – just felt like writing a little more than cutting
to the chase of how this album’s exceptional quality is the vocal of Marissa
Allen. That the rest of Dead Feather’s Chicago rockers play a powerfully generic support and platform for this potent voice is, however, firmly
celebrated by the other function of that long preamble in making it clear what
I mean by ‘generic’.

Sunday, 25 August 2019

Baby Rose [Rose Wilson] is a 25 year old singer-songwriter with the time-burred
vocal of someone steeped in many more years of experience. Whilst pleasingly
generic in terms of its soul/R&B songwriting, along with overlaying and other
effects – like the malleable/bending piano chords and percussive beats to Artifacts – it is the voice that establishes
the enduring quality of this debut. Opener Sold Out
starts with a car-starting-and-moving-off sample when Rose’s jazz-soul vocal then
fills the vacated space with resonant, warbling vocal depths, these adorned
with other harmonies and soothing grooved instrumentation; next Borderline is a punchier but again
smoothed-out affair, the vocal ‘accent’ that slight affectation [a la Amy Winehouse]
I find unsettles these ears, but for many it is obviously a requisite style.
That Rose’s singing rises above everything in its impressive presence is the
great capture of this album, All to
Myself a passionate and breathy lament; penultimate Over a hypnotic swathe of matured vocal mastery, and closer Show You a light orchestral number in
the Burt Bacharach mode of cool.

Friday, 23 August 2019

In my recent review of Byron Wallen’s excellent album Meeting Groundhere, I concluded with
the observation: Imagine my happy anticipation of seeing Wallen play at Exeter
next week.

That gig last night fully lived up to the expectation,
wonderfully so as I will explain shortly. As ever, The Blue Vanguard Trio
excelled in their support and individual solos, these accompanying the warm
personality and hot playing of Wallen. A set of standards began the evening,
opening with Nat Adderley’s Sack O’ Woe, which included a glorious elongated trill on the horn; a John Coltrane
number, and others I have [as usual] failed to remember by name.

I had to leave at the interval, but the song played just
before this is what made the evening for me, truncated as it was. Wallen
introduced his self-penned song as ‘something outside the box’ and it was to be
Freedom Struggle from his album Meeting Ground. He explained a little
about his travels to North Africa and meeting and playing with musicians there,
expanding to also briefly talk about Morrocan Gnawa music and all these links
to the song which was in many respects about personal survival and surrender.
The playing was sublime, the start a soaring flight over Milverton’s piano
layers, with horn-squeals at its peak, to eventually break into the rhythmic percussion
of Al Swainger on bass and Coach York on drums, this sustained palpably to its
end [especially in the sense that one couldn’t sit still to its playing and instead had
to move with it - for me anyway], Coach, in particular, keeping the fire alive.

I was reliably informed this morning that the post-interval
set was also superb, but I was so pleased to have heard my final
number. It was memorable.

Friday, 16 August 2019

Elegant and melodious trumpet so often infuses the songs on
this album, these then worked with other instrumentation like the riff baritone
sax of Tony Kofi beneath a Miles Davis-esque muted overplay by Wallen on opener
Spirit of Bilal, where, in addition,
found sounds and the vocal of Boujemaa Boubul provide further depths. These recorded sounds, for
example, segue into the next track Captive
Caravan with a storm as the field sample to start. Horn and sax work in a
punchy tandem as well with other percussive instrumentation and vocal tunes to
create an ambience of outdoors and expansiveness to then end on a cow/oxen
growl beneath Gnawa percussion. This then itself segues into a fly-buzzed
[uncomfortably so] intro to Sailor of the
Sounds and a subsequent dub/hip hop rhythmic follow-on – the flies buzzing
in and out – and Moroccan Boubul’s singing continuing to layer the ‘African’
landscape. The closing title track has a wonderful call/response
between Wallen and Kofi that erupts into a furious debate, eventually defused to
Larry Bartley on bass and Tom Skinner on drums [superb throughout] reminding
them to pick back up on the dual melody. This wonderful mix exemplifies over and
over the album's richly creative musical journey.

Imagine my happy anticipation of seeing Wallen play at
Exeter next week.

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This blog is essentially for music reviews, including live gigs. Frequently heavy on 60s/70s nostalgia, the time of my musical growing-up, there is also an eclectic and contemporary range. In addition I fuel a commitment to posting themed album covers for the simple challenge and fun of it - as I've started, I'll keep going. Enjoy.